The land tour was fairly smooth, though some of the streets were cobblestones and the old converted tank or whatever it was didn't have much in the way of shock absorbers. The transition to the water was another matter, quite a bumpy transition from wheeled vehicle to boat. When we boarded, I started to feel a little queasy, not having much skill as a swimmer. I asked where the life preservers were, and that seemed to be a joke question. But underneath our seats were black plastic bags that the captain told us contained life jackets. No one looked of course, but to me the bags seemed very difficult to open and don the contents. But nothing untoward could happen on such a nice day; the other passengers seemed relaxed and comfortable.
When we were quite far out on the river, a sudden storm arose and swept over the boat, with sheets of cold rain gusting across our vessel. One of the passengers attempted to unfurl a boat-length canvas curtain which was attached around a pole at the bottom meant to hold the curtain down, but the pole slipped out and was lost at sea, so to speak. The captain was visibly irked at the loss; attempts to retrieve it soon failed.
It took a while for him to bring the duckboat back to the dock; the boat's engine sputtered, died, but then kicked back in. We were cold and wet by then and went into the Port of Albany restaurant for lunch, hoping it would warm us up. The host who greeted us was Mark V. a former teacher. He did not seem surprised at our adventure. He said that just yesterday the Coast Guard had to rescue the Duckboat's passengers, and that was a fairly frequent occurence.
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